along the sculpted Scottish coast, they are no strangers to the boast
but whisper Duncan or Macbeth, and there's that telltale catch of breath
yes, something wicked this way comes, cue in the beating of the drums
the witches prick their thumbs and chant, and Duncan seeks escape, but can't
Author notes: the fuller version: https://allpoetry.com/poem/16258137-Duncans-Ghost-by-Coolmails
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